Page 70 of Chad's Chase
Tapping my forefinger to my lips, I demanded, “Kiss it better.”
I was expecting him to deny me, but that expectation fled when he grabbed me and dropped his mouth down to mine in a heated hunger, like he’d been yearning for this.
Holding onto his biceps for balance, I braced myself against him and dug deeper into the kiss, giving, offering, submitting, surrendering.
The wave between us was stronger than just two people wanting each other sexually. A current that went far beyond sexual torridity was drawing us together. Like a whole that had been struck into two halves by a lightning bolt, being forced back together by a high current sea, pushing, shoving, not letting up until those two halves drew back together like magnets, until they stuck, sealing, healing, becoming a whole again. Becoming one.
Whether or not we shared fond memories of the past, it was wrong of me to be having these feelings for this man. Because following those fond memories were horrible, horrible memories also.
All of this was wrong. Me enjoying the way his tongue felt in my mouth, or wanting him to throw me down on the couch and fuck me into oblivion—wrong. These feelings, these wants, these cravings were forbidden.
Wrong.
Here, I wasn’t avenging my family. I was loving the enemy. Blood of my family forgotten.
How could I be so cruel to them? How could I betray them like this? Giving myself up, my whole body, my mind, my heart, my trust, to the person who turned me into an orphan, who threw me in the lonely darkness, who was the catalyst for my one dozen years of hell.
This wasn’t right. This was selfish. This was twisted.
Yet I couldn’t let myself stop. I couldn’t let myselfnotwant the full gamut of the erection digging into my stomach. I couldn’t let myselfnotget wet from the smooth thrust of his tongue inside my mouth. I couldn’tnotwant him.
I just couldn’t.
Much to my displeasure, Chad broke off the kiss and took a step back from me, adjusting his jeans. “We need to eat.”
“Wewereeating,” I pointed out, moving in to pick up where we left off.
Chad laughed yet again, and I was loving the fact that I could make the taciturn, ever-serious, arrogant dickhead laugh. “Actual food. We need actual food.”
I crossed my arms. “You’re still mad at me, aren’t you?”
“I’m not,” he denied. “Just hungry.”
Through narrowed slits, I studied him for a heartbeat and a half. “Okay. Well, after we eat, you tell me what’s going on outside this fortress. And then we fuck for the rest of the night. Deal?”
No response. Only an arched eyebrow.
Uncrossing my arms, I went up on my tippy toes and whispered in his ear, “If you deny me your cock tonight, things are going to get really,reallyugly.”
Without waiting for his response, I shouldered past him and sauntered to the dining area. Leaving him some time to get his hard-on under control.
Vivian prepared bacon-wrapped baked chicken, with sautéed vegetables and a home-baked garden pizza on the side. The woman could cook her knuckles off, had to give her that.
It wasn’t until my dinner plate was empty and I was biting into a slice of the garden pizza that I realized how hungry I’d been.
From across the table, Chad was watching me, amused, as if to say,I was right, wasn’t I?
He was right. We’d only eaten breakfast, and I spent hours updating him on the last horrific years of my life. Not to mention I’d been overdrugged. So, of course, I was starved. Just hadn’t noticed how much until the first morsel of food touched my tongue.
Chad’s dish was empty, too. But he didn’t seem interested in the pizza, sipping from his wine glass. Watching me.
Polishing off the last of my pizza, I wiped the corners of my mouth and broached, “I can understand The Voice’s coming after me. I failed a mission. And I’m in cahoots with the target. But as for the other person,thatI don’t understand. What do they want with me?”
“The Voice?” Chad asked, a sardonic arch to his brows.
“Well, yourfather,” I corrected. “I dubbed him ‘The Voice’ because we only communicated over the phone. And that’s only when he was giving me a mission, or checking up on the status of one. For everything else, like giving me cash or upgrades, he sends his henchmen.” I picked up another slice of pizza and bit in. “As a matter of fact, I’m not sure any of his employers know what he looks like. But now that I know he’s Rafail Niiveux, I understand. You can’t very well be a good guy and a bad guy at the same time, can you?”
Chad’s father, along with his two other uncles, Vlad and Pavel Niiveux, were joint owners of the car brand Niiveux, which was one of the largest and most expensive car brands in the world which produced vehicles that only millionaires could afford.
